Council
S U R V I V O R S season one �� episode 5 ---- This is the fifth episode of Survivors, by Rainy. ---- "We are gathered here," muttered Hyacinth, in a pompous, mocking imitation of Counselor Troutstrike's voice, "to discuss the crimes of four unnamed RockClan cats and two unnamed Shadow soldiers, because we actually have no lives. Also, because we are a bunch of total dung-wads, we're making a couple of innocent Trackers be present at the trial. Cause you know, screw the world." Casper shot her a dry look, then decided against his better instincts to join in. "But wait, Troutstrike!" he squeaked in an annoying falsetto. "Why are you differentiating between RockClan and the Shadow Army? They're all the same, all part of the Union. Let's kill them all! But someone else do it, I don't want to break a claw." "Nice impersonation," Hyacinth said, eyes glinting. "Was that Lionspots?" Snorting, Casper said, "You know it. His voice is higher than Leopardfur's." It was easier, like this. Making jokes. Laughing it away. They were here as witnesses in the Waller's Trench case. Just him and Hyacinth. Finn had fallen into hysterics; Terrence had taken him back to Mudpoint to tell the other Trackers what had happened, and about Iris's death. Casper knew the rest of the Trackers would be okay for a little while--Raven was his back-up, and she'd keep them in line while he was away--but he wanted to get back to them soon. Doubts were sure to start cropping up in the wake of last night's tragedy, and they would need him to be a strong leader. He hoped he could figure out just how to do that in time. The Coalition had managed to capture six of the gas bombers, and they were now seated in the Council room of Headquarters, cuffed cruelly to the ground, awaiting judgement. This trial was not being held to send a message to the Union, Casper knew. None of the Union's important leaders would have been stupid enough to go and do the bombing themselves, where there was always the risk of a gas-mask slipping or being captured by the enemy. The six cuffed cats were inconsequential and unimportant to the Union, the dregs of the army. No one cared if they came back dead or alive from the mission. As Lionspots began interrogating the cats, this became painfully obvious. The most-discussed topic was the how of the bombs: how had they been made? None of the prisoners had any idea; it had not been explained to them. Their mission had been conveyed in the most basic terms: throw the bombs, keep your gas mask on, and try to get out of there alive. Casper doubted that they even understood what the bombs did until the very last second. He personally thought they should've jumped into the gas-filled Waller's Trench with their mouths wide open rather than be captured by the Sho-Co. This trial was not to punish the Union. It was for the cats of the Coalition themselves, who would all be looking to Headquarters to see how the perpetrators of Waller's Trench were executed. Forget the Union cats who had invented the bombs, who had tended to the poison and had orchestrated the organized murder of innocent civilians. Six cats had been captured. Six cats to bear the guilt. Six cats to bear the weight of the world. No one cared that they were just lowly mercenaries, no one cared that they probably wouldn't have done it if they'd known beforehand what the bombs would do. Which was why Casper was dreading this trial so. He sensed that the Council would unleash any brutality just to prove that they could completely tear apart these cats, and hope that the message broadcasted to the cats of the Coalition would be that they could do this to any cat of the Union. "Look what we can do to them!" they would cry over the battered, broken bodies of their prisoners. Normally, LightClan acted as the pacifist at trials. But today, every LightClan cat was out for more blood than the most violent TreeClan cat. Every Coalition cat who died at Waller's Trench had been of LightClan. "Let's call the witnesses," Troutstrike said. "Trackers, forward." "Can I tell him my name's Hyacinth?" "Shut up." Impatiently, Troutstrike said, "Both of you quit your mumbling. Tell us what happened last night at Waller's Trench, exactly as you remember it." For about the fifteenth time, Casper and Hyacinth recounted the events of last night. The words sounded hollow in his ears as they began coming out of his mouth. Calmly, he informed the Council about it all: the smoke, the screaming, the stench of death. It had no effect on him. He was wrapped in a bubble: the world was distorted around him, stretched and compressed and twisted so that it no longer made any sense whatsoever. When you talked about something so much, you ground it into dust. Smoothed out its sharp edges with ceaseless discussion. How could you be horrified by something you had camly explained a thousand times? The horror was replaced temporarily with a polite, detached fascination. Oh, what a tragedy. How many died again? Gosh, gas bombs, huh? What a terrible way to die! Are you hungry? Want to go for a hunt? Like the Drurray Way Massacre, Waller's Trench would be the talk of the town for about a moon or so. After that, interest would die. Most normal cats would go back to the most pressing concerns of the war: prey shortages and the annoyingness of having soldiers invading their personal space. Irksome flies, bothersome reminders that the valley was tearing itself apart, preventing the oblivion they pretended to live in from being complete. And the cats who had lost their best friends, the mothers who had lost daughters, the kits who were now orphans... They would be written off as casualties and collateral damage. This is a war. "Thank you for your testimony," Violetfur said when he and Hyacinth had finished talking. "The Coalition thanks you for your service." Casper had been thanked for his service before. The last time had been when Patcheye, one of the TreeClan counselors, had done so after he'd heard about Raven killing Flamepaw. "You showed the RockClan cats that we will not hesitate to take whatever is necessary for us to win. Thank you for your service," Patcheye told him. And he didn't mistake the bloodlust in Violetfur's eyes now. He scrambled out of the way as the guards stepped forward, murder gleaming in their eyes. The six prisoners were thrown out of their cuffs and onto the floor, sprawling in the dirt at the Council's paws. Casper practically shoved Hyacinth out in front of him as they made their escape from the Council room. They heard Violetfur: "Verdict?" And the unanimous return: "Guilty." "Proceed, guards." As Casper and Hyacinth stumbled out into the hall, the screams began. "They deserve it," said Hyacinth vehemently. Her eyes were shining with guilt and defiance. "All of it. The torture, the shame, the death. They killed Iris, just because she was in their way. They killed all of those LightClan cats... It doesn't matter if it wasn't their idea. They still did it. Whether we know what we're doing or not, the blood and the guilt is ours. We have to pay--" She broke off as the screams hit a surmount. "We have to pay," she said again, more raggedly. "They have to pay, Casper." "Hyacinth..." Her eyes rolled back till he could see the whites of her eyeballs. She punched the stone wall. "Can't they just shut up?" she screamed. "Shut up, all of you!" Another anguished scream--but weaker. Fading. And Hyacinth was on the ground. "It's not my fault," she told Casper. "We tried to stop them. We didn't capture them. The LightClan cats, the Shadow soldiers, the RockClan cats... It's not my fault. They're all dead, but it's not my fault." A guard shouted in anger, and another scream pierced the air. Casper hit the ground as if it had physically wounded him, and crawled over to Hyacinth, who was shaking. Rambling, incoherent: "It's not my fault, they deserved it, they have to pay..." Her eyes connected with his. "Do you have any Scarlet?" she whispered. "You're insane," he told her simply, drawing her close. "This is a war, Hyacinth." "Dung-wad," she returned, sobbing into his shoulder and pretending she wasn't. "Insensitive, unfeeling pickle-brain. Don't even have any Scarlet." He put his head on hers. Hyacinth, who burned so bright she was a supernova, unapproachable and unstable and irresistible in that way only the most dangerous, tragic things are. Who mocked the world within an inch of its life, who brought cats to their knees with her emerald gaze and flayed them with the knife on her tongue. Who stared stoically into the green-gray monster that devoured all of Waller's Trench. Who fell apart at screams and torture, who pretended not to and laughed at all of it till her voice broke under the tears beading her lashes. "I'm sorry." "Yeah. So am I. Sorry any of us were ever born into this pathetic world," she said. "Stars, I know you don't use it because of your stinking morals or something, but I could really use some Scarlet." "You always want Scarlet," he corrected. "You really can't use it at all." She laughed. "Don't lecture me. I'm not in the mood. I don't know how you keep it together without that stuff. Where do you put your demons?" She tilted her head and looked into his eyes. "Oh," she said, subdued. "Right there." * * * "Larksong, dear," said Tildie in a tentative voice. Larksong got up from the floor and glanced regretfully at the bruise already pooling at her shoulder. "Yes, Tildie dear?" she said with a winsome flick of her tail, hoping to distract the she-cat from whatever she was about to say with that disapproving look in her eyes. "You mustn't obsess about things, you know." "I'm not obsessing. I'm training. And you can see why. I totally butchered that last move." "You'll rip open all your wounds." "They're scars now. They don't hurt." Not physically, anyway. Larksong stared intently at the ground. "You have so much of both your mother and your father in you. Eagleclaw was exactly like Brackenface--born for the war. But you have fight and grace. Small girl, you are the most fearsome cat I've ever met." Larksong couldn't help but smile. "Well, thanks. Tell that to Sunny--she thinks I'm making a fool of myself by trying to train." "Sunny likes it here at Drurray Way. She isn't a Negoui cat, she isn't a Clan cat. She is like me; she belongs here." Looking at Tildie intently, Larksong said, "I belong here too." "I used to think that. Now, I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to leave." "I don't want to leave. It's the only place I feel safe." Touching her nose tenderly to Larksong's ear, Tildie mewed, "For now. But you are healing. Slowly, but surely. And as a rose blossoms, it grows its thorns. You are a born warrior, no matter how gentle and kind you may be to those you love." There was a long pause. Larksong sat beside Tildie, resting her head on the older cat's shoulder. "I remember that day more and more now. I blocked it out for so long, and now that dam's broken. We were trying to protect Drurray Way. Casper was there, and Eagleclaw and Cherryclaw and Brackenface." Tildie said nothing. Curled her tail around Larksong's frame. Eyes reflective, mouth a thin, sad little line. "Someone betrayed us. The Union cats knew where we were hiding. We'd laid a false trail, but they didn't follow it. It turned into a bloodbath. My parents were killed, and I was captured. I still don't understand why, what they wanted with a warrior as young as me." Her brow furrowed. Time for the part of the story no one else knew; what had happened to her after she'd been taken. She didn't know how far she could bear to go, but she had to try... Something was trying to cough it up, to get rid of it like poison in her system. "They knocked me out. They transferred me into the paws of another patrol, the patrol of cats who kept me and tortured me for the rest of my imprisonment. There was a she-cat who everyone called Panther, she was in charge. It was a code-name, I think. I never knew Panther's identity; she questioned me from outside my cave, and when I refused to answer, she sent in her guards to hurt me." Larksong's words cut off as abruptly as if someone had plunged something sharp into her chest. Hurt me. Every scar on her pelt became a silvery river of blood. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I can't say anymore." The poison slipped back down her throat, and she absorbed the bitter memories, letting them run back into her bloodstream instead of facing the excruciating pain of letting them out into the open. "Tildie!" Sunny ran into the room, then cut herself short. "Oh--I can come back--" "Don't be absurd. Come on in," Larksong invited, suddenly relieved at the younger she-cat's carefreeness. Sunny gave a tentative smile. "It's Merry and Mumbles. They're arguing." Puzzled, Larksong turned towards her. "Arguing?" "Mumbles doesn't exactly argue," admitted Sunny reluctantly. "Which is why I'm so annoyed. Merry's dreadful, don't you think? She knows Mumbles doesn't have the capacity to debate on the same level as her. She knows he gets tongue-tied, she knows he gets a little odd..." "Sunny," said Tildie. "Please do not speak of Mumbles as though he is ill or invalid. He is perfectly capable. If the thoughts in his brilliant head are not expressed to your satisfaction, isn't that your problem?" Faltering--Tildie could make you feel very small when she wanted too--Sunny blushed under her dark pelt and said, "We-ell, I just wanted to help him out. Merry's an awful plague sometimes. Always talking about TreeClan toms and giggling and saying rude things. She drives me insane. And I didn't mean to be... to say that about Mumbles. I love him, you know I do." "Yet we are all too capable of hurting those we love, perhaps much more than anyone we truly hate," said Tildie, giving Sunny a knowing look. A scowl tightened Sunny's face, but her eyes was sad. "I know he likes me. What am I supposed to do about it?" "Beats me," Tildie said, losing the serious expression. "I never had the problem of being too beautiful and irresistible." Snickering, Sunny said, "That's Larksong and Merry, not me." Blinking in surprise at having been brought into this, Larksong chose not to say anything. Maybe a year before, she had had a few toms she was interested in, and maybe a few had liked her back. Now? She was scarred inside and out, and was more interested in sealing the cracks than trying to hide them for vanity's sake. "Guys? We have a problem." Merry and Mumbles came into the small room from the Hall, having evidently reached a temporary truce in their argument for the sake of addressing something more important. "There are a group of cats at the entrance, and they say they're from the Council. Ozzie knows them and he says it's true." Merry swung her gaze to Larksong. "They want you." Everyone was on their paws and traipsing out through the Hall in a flash. Instinctively, the others surrounded Larksong, ringing her in and making her as hard to get at as possible. She felt an overwhelming appreciation for them. Captain Briggs was standing beside Ozzie at the entrance to Drurray Way, yelling obscenities in a cranky tone of voice. "What on Earth do you mean, General Leopardfur wants her? General Leopardfur is a barnacle on the rear end of felinity! And tell her I said so!" "Larksong, get back. Take her back, Sunny. Hide her in the secret room--" said Tildie urgently, but it was too late. She had been spotted. "Seize her," said one of the TreeClan cats sent by the Council, and rough paws pushed their way past Captain Briggs and grabbed onto Larksong. Merry let out an indignant shriek. "We are not the Union! We are not the enemy! You can't barge in here and take her!" "We have reason to suspect connections of Larksong of treason. She is wanted for interrogation. She will be released within a fortnight, unless we find anything suspicious." "A fortnight?" gasped Sunny. "That's two weeks--you're crazy." "If she has nothing to hide, she has nothing to fear." Larksong went into a full-blown panic. She thrashed like a caught bird. Not again, not again. The phrase pounded in her veins till she was senseless, an animal. The world went black for a few seconds, pure terror obscurring every other sense in her consciousness. When she came to her senses, she was on the ground, firmly pinned by the now significantly angrier TreeClan cats. One of them was now sporting an angry red scratch on his left cheek. "Sorry?" she tried. "Take her. Let's go." * * * "So when can we leave?" "Tomorrow morning." "What?" yelped Hyacinth. "Why not now? We already testified, and those six cats are probably dead or dying by now." "Just in case. We can leave at dawn if they're sure they don't need us anymore." She rolled her eyes. "This place is the pits, dude." "Sorry. If you have a problem, take it up with Leopardfur." Frowning, Hyacinth said, "Where is Leopardfur? I glanced in the Council room and I didn't see her participating in their trolls' discussion." "Why did you glance in the Council room?" "To see how they disposed of the bodies," she snapped. "I just was curious, okay. Morbid curiosity." "They'll make them martyrs. String them up for all of the Coalition to see." "Of course they will. Maybe put their entrails on a pole." He glared at her. "That's not what I meant. I just meant they want to use this as a way to show everyone that they're doing something. That the Council isn't completely useless." "Oh, that's a lost cause. They were useless the moment they were formed, and they've gotten negatively useless as time's worn on. They might as well go fight for the Union for all the help they do us," said Hyacinth. Smirking at her, Casper said, "'Us'?" Realizing her mistake, she said peevishly, "The Coalition. Don't give me that sly smile, moron. You know we're not part of the Coalition. I don't really care whether TreeClan and LightClan live or die. But they pay us well." "Sure. Could the princess of ice be growing a heart?" "Do you want to grow a bump on your head?" she threatened. A commotion distracted them both into turning their heads towards the entrance. A member of the Council police force, the trained guards they sent out from Headquarters to do their bidding around Clan territory, came in. Another member of his squad dragged in a third cat, obviously a prisoner come for interrogation or trial. When Casper saw who it was, he felt his heart stop for a second. "Larksong?" The tabby she-cat glanced up. Their eyes locked. "What are you doing here?" "Your pretty friend is here for questioning about her loyalties." "They think I committed treason. Or that I know something about someone who did," Larksong said. "Shut your mouth," snarled the policetom. "That's ridiculous," said Hyacinth. "She's been held hostage for a year." "And didn't you already question her, right after she'd come out of that traumatizing situation?" demanded Casper angrily. "Things have changed," said the policetom coldly. "I'm Captain Theodore of the Coalition Police Force. I have the authority to command this arrest. If you have a problem, take it up with me later. Or don't, because it's a lost battle already. The Council wants her in." "Where's General Leopardfur?" asked Hyacinth abruptly. Captain Theo gave her an odd look. "How should I know? Probably in the Council room." "She's not there." "Then maybe she's in the dirtplace. Stop wasting my time." He prodded Larksong on through the entrance chamber, into the Council room. When they were gone, Casper turned to Hyacinth in outrage. "They arrested Larksong!" "Yes, I saw," she said patiently. "What are we going to do about it?" "They're lying. They have to be. There's no way she's been linked to treasonous activity. She's been living in a dark cell for a year under the Union's control." "Nothing the Council does ever makes sense," said Hyacinth. "But I agree--there's something suspicious going on here." They broke off talking as a sleek she-cat stormed into the entrance chamber. It was General Leopardfur. She hardly noticed them as she pushed her way towards the Council room. Without saying a word, Hyacinth and Casper crowded at the entrance, eavesdropping. "Leopardfur," said Violetfur in a lofty tone. "How nice of you to finally drop by." "You know I was collecting my evidence. I have it now." She turned and pointed an accusing paw at Larksong. "That she-cat is a traitor and has been working against the Coalition. She is responsible for the Drurray Way Massacre. I propose a murderer's trial. Punishment for crime: death." * * * Toby sat a fair distance away from Mudpoint. He had to get away from it all. The Trackers were a mess. They were devastated by Iris's death, and questioning their part in a war that lead to tragedies like Waller's Trench. Without Casper here to hold them, they were left with only Raven--and Raven herself had seemed a little frayed at the edges lately. Toby suspected that killing Flamepaw was catching up with her. Ghosts always caught up to you. "Toby?" He was surprised to see Snowflake approaching him. She stood out brightly against the darkening scenery, her blue eyes sparkling like sapphire dust. "I think Greg's in trouble." "Huh?" Trance broken, Toby frowned at her. "What do you mean, Greg's in trouble?" "He, Blake and Maia are leaving Mudpoint right now. They're going towards Emerald River." "More Scarlet?" he guessed. Snowflake shook her head. "I overheard them talking... They're meeting up with some other young cats, apprentices and stuff. They want to form a mob and kill Lord Vector." "What? That's insanity." Toby couldn't believe his brother would be stupid enough to join in with such idiocy--then he remembered Greg's undying devotion to Maia, which somehow didn't fade in spite of the fact that she had Blake for a boyfriend. "They can't kill Lord Vector." "I know that. They probably don't even know where he is. But they're going to get hurt, Toby. We have to stop them." And you think Greg's an idiot? Get a grip. She may be beautiful and kind, but she didn't create your world. Toby glanced away from Snowflake in order to gain control of his thoughts. "I know. Come on." The two cadets began to run. Above their heads, the stars twinkled on in their silent vigil. The night wind swept over Shashoake Valley, over Coalition and Union alike. It sifted through the pelts of its inhabitants, gathering their secrets, and then scattering them finely over millions of miles, till nothing was left of the plots and ploys of cats but a very faint whisper, a quiet something in the earth crying, make peace. A young tabby she-cat faced the Council, accused of treason, the death penalty hanging over her head. A spotted war general looked down from her perch, a sinister message hidden deep in her golden eyes. A white tom with different-colored eyes hid in the doorway of the courtroom with his best friend and prayed for a miracle. A group of bloodthirsty young cats gathered on the shores of Emerald River, fevered and ready to make a radical change, revolutionary and already triumphant in their own naive minds. The night watched over it all, and guarded their secrets carefully. It enveloped the wealth of their emotions and wrapped them, shrouded them. But dawn's light would soon flood the place, invade every dark corner and expose it all, and then the clamor of life would demand action, would demand that events stop slipping along and start roaring at a pace too fiery to handle. And Shashoake Valley would face a day like it had never faced before. The End Category:Survivors